


Wrapped Up With A Bow

by ConsultingTimeLord



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blood, Cooking Lessons, M/M, Rough Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-19
Updated: 2013-05-19
Packaged: 2017-12-12 08:02:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/809225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConsultingTimeLord/pseuds/ConsultingTimeLord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal invites Will over to his home in order to teach him a few recipes so he can survive on more than just take-out and microwave meals. Once there, the tension between them turns into something a little more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wrapped Up With A Bow

“Most of my meals either come from a take-out bag or the microwave,” Will said as he dug into the breakfast Hannibal made for him. “The rest is what you bring me.”

Hannibal shot him a look as if he’d been personally offended. “That’s criminal, Will. Did no one teach you to cook?”

“Not really,” he replied after swallowing a bite of sausage. “Like I said, I never really knew my mother and the best my father could do was a mean grilled cheese.”

“Well, I can’t be around to feed you all the time,” Hannibal said with and exasperated breath. 

He eyed Will from across the small, yellowed, plastic-topped table. Will didn’t notice as he picked through his food, staring at his plate while he thoroughly chewed each bite. The motel room was small and carried a musty, old scent that both Hannibal and Will tried to ignore. It wasn’t entirely unlike the one they had their first one-on-one chat in.

“After today’s investigations, why don’t you stop by my home? I’ll teach you a few recipes, nothing complicated,” Hannibal offered, still carefully scanning over Will’s hunched form.

Will glanced up, quickly looking over Hannibal’s features. “Uh, I… I don’t know…”

“William, I insist,” Hannibal said, a chill creeping through his tone.

Will looked up, catching his eyes and locking on them for a few moments. He swallowed hard, his fork suspended in mid-lift. It required a lot of effort for him to tear his gaze away, but he managed it. Even as he looked back down at his food, he could still feel Hannibal’s eyes burning into him.

“Okay,” Will said with a short-lived smile. “Sounds good.”

“Excellent,” Hannibal said, returning the smile. “You won’t be sorry.”

 

As the sunset sky openly bled, Will pulled his car into Hannibal’s driveway. When his feet hit the ground, Hannibal was at the front door, wearing an apron around his waist and a welcoming grin. He was wiping his hands off on a towel as he held the door open for Will, who smiled politely as he slipped by him. Will removed his jacket and hung it on a nearby, ornately carved coatrack just before Hannibal placed a hand on the small of his back to guide him toward the beautiful, near sparkling kitchen.

“Hello, Will. I’m glad you came,” Hannibal said as they walked.

“Of course I did. It seemed like a hard offer to pass up,” he replied, stopping in his tracks when they walked into the room.

He felt something close to awe as his gaze fell upon the plates and bowls of ingredients that were placed precisely across the counters, not one drop of their contents on the shining surfaces. He stole a few steps forward, looking at some plated basil and tomatoes, when he felt a pair of hands slide around his waist. Will froze, his muscles tensing, as he looked down to see a blindingly white apron being tied in place. A quick glance over his shoulder showed Hannibal concentrating as he tied a tight knot in a secure hold.

Once it was tied, Hannibal slipped his fingers between the string and Will’s back just to check that it was tight enough, sending a wave of chills up his spine. He could feel his fingertips brushing along his back as he moved away in order to lead Will to an open space among the counters. Two cutting boards were placed side-by-side, each with their own set of knives. Hannibal positioned him so that he was on his left before grabbing two plates of tomatoes, setting them down in front of the boards.

Will felt like everything before him was almost too much to process. “This is simple?”

“Don’t let the ingredients intimidate you,” Hannibal said, glancing over at him as he grabbed one of the smaller knives. “They may be great in number, but you have the power.” He waved the knife like a conductor’s baton as he spoke, cutting into an unsuspecting tomato at the last word.

Will followed his example, blindly picking a knife and comparing it to the one Hannibal held. He had to put it back and try twice more before he found the right one. Like a child to a new object, he hesitantly grabbed one of the tomatoes and looked it over before setting it down on the cutting board. He glanced over at Hannibal who had already sliced up two full tomatoes.

In an attempt to catch up, Will haphazardly stabbed the knife through the red flesh, poorly mincing the tomato rather than cutting it into slices. He sighed at the mess before him, looking at his juice covered hand. He hesitated to wipe it on the pristine apron, worrying about upsetting Hannibal’s sense of order, and instead grabbed another of the tomatoes from the plate in front of him.

Hannibal looked over just as Will was about to destroy it and reached out a hand to stop him.

“What did tomatoes ever do to you?” he said as he held Will’s wrist away from the cutting board. “Don’t kill it, reshape it.”

He moved behind Will, switching hands to hold Will’s in order to help him guide the blade. He prompted Will to hold the tomato with his free hand as Hannibal directed his other one to hold the blade over it in a diagonal position.

“Start the cut diagonally and not with so much pressure that you crush it,” he said, his breath brushing Will’s cheek.

He guided him through the cut and stepped away to let him do the next one on his own under Hannibal’s watchful eye. He was able to cut a proper, if uneven slice, leaving Hannibal satisfied to continue with his own work. Will felt a chill when he walked away, a longing that he tried to ignore. He didn’t want Hannibal to let go but he wasn’t about to say that. Instead, he shook off the chill and the lingering warmth his hand had left on his wrist.

Hannibal continued on his own, stacking the slices to cut off the outer skin before chopping them into chunks. Minutes passed until Will was at that stage and Hannibal paused to watch over him, his eyes tracing the movements of Will’s hands. He didn’t say a word or try to stop him, so Will accepted that as a good sign. When he was done, they placed slices of baguette coated in olive oil on a baking sheet and put them in the oven. 

“What are we making anyway?” Will asked, finally realizing he was cooking blind.

“Bruschetta with tomato and basil. It’s an easy lunch, takes no more than twenty minutes,” Hannibal explained. 

After the tomatoes were prepared, they chopped up the basil and garlic cloves, placing everything in a bowl with salt, pepper, and olive oil to mix.

“What are these other bowls and plates for?”

“I said I’d be showing you a few recipes. This is just the first.”

Will shifted uncomfortably, worrying about how well he’d do on anything harder than toasting bread in the oven. Hannibal smiled, sensing his discomfort.

“You’ll do just fine. Cooking, like any art, takes practice and you’ll be better for it.”

“If you say so…”

After five minutes, Hannibal removed the golden brown bread and they topped each slice with a spoonful of the mixture in the bowl. Hannibal took care in plating them, putting two slices on each one before grabbing another bowl from the fridge.

“Cottage cheese,” Hannibal said in response to Will’s curious expression. “I make it myself.”

Will couldn’t suppress a short laugh. “Of course you do.”

He masterfully scooped some for each plate without spilling or misplacing a drop. Will stared at the beautiful display hungrily as Hannibal cut into one of them with a knife, picking it up with a fork and adding some of the cottage cheese for flavor. Will expected him to eat it himself, but he instead held it out to Will, keeping his other hand underneath in case it dripped. He hesitated, staring at the man in front of him with a deep unsurity, but a feeling even deeper urged him forward and he took the bite off the fork.

He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the taste of it as he chewed, when he felt a hand gently caress his cheek. His eyes shot open to see Hannibal’s face mere inches from his own, eyes heavy-lidded and staring at Will’s mouth the way Will had been staring at the food. Will swallowed hard, his brain warring between taking a step back or a step forward, when Hannibal’s hand tilted his head up so he could lean in for a kiss.

Their lips brushed, hovering, testing each other. Hannibal’s lips felt soft against his own which were chewed up and rough from nerves. Will wanted to make the next move but a hand entangled in his dark curls, holding his head still, wasn’t about to let him. Will stared into Hannibal’s eyes, dilated and black. His heart started to pound harder and each breath grew increasingly shallow as if he were running for his life.

Hannibal kissed him, harder this time, but Will still felt like he was holding back, as if he were testing how far he wanted to go. It tasted sweet and satisfying, something he’d been craving but hadn’t yet realized it until it was pressed against his lips. Hannibal pulled away again and Will tried to follow but the hand in his hair jerked him back. He winced in pain but he understood. He was not and would not be in control.

With his free hand, Hannibal held Will’s face, gently tracing over his cheekbone with his thumb. That hand moved downward, his fingertips sending light shocks through Will’s body as they grazed over his cheek and jawline, stopping to rest at his neck. He remained calm and cool while Will started to crumble under his touch, yet he seemed like a caged animal, keeping himself and his ravenous hunger in check.

Another kiss, even harder, his hand tightened around Will’s neck as he pushed him back into the counter, the top of it digging into the small of Will’s back. Hannibal trapped Will’s lower lip between his teeth, biting down hard enough that beads of blood bubbled up. An involuntary gasp stuck in his throat, causing Hannibal to pull back on Will’s hair as he let go of his lip. Blood coated it, shining like gems under the kitchen lights and, unable to help himself, Hannibal drew his tongue across it, catching every drop.

“Hannibal, I—” Will began, only to be quieted by another kiss, rough against his lips like a punishment for speaking.

His mouth started to ache from the abuse but it was a pleasant feeling, resonating within him like a hum of contentment. Hannibal pressed his body against Will’s, shoving him further into the counter to the point where he couldn’t even feel the pain anymore. He removed his hand from Will’s neck to steady himself on the shining countertop and was met with a clang as he hit one of the knives left out. Hannibal tensed, hesitating in the kiss until he pulled away with the knife clutched in his hand.

Will’s breath hitched in his throat at the sight, unable to move while Hannibal still held on tightly to his hair. Fear started to sink in, fear that he might not let go, what he might do with the blade, but, gently, he unfurled his fingers and released him. He shuffled a few steps away, out of immediate range, unsure of what to do.

“I think you should go,” Hannibal said, his own lips looking red and pained to Will. He pointed toward the front door with the knife before finally setting it back in its slot with the others. 

Will licked his lips, glancing from the way out of the kitchen to Hannibal. He walked around the counter, moving slowly as if with any step the floor could drop out from under him. He left the kitchen and Hannibal’s sight, hesitating just outside. On the surface, he knew it was wrong, he knew it was damaging, but the comfort he felt around Hannibal, the way he needed him, was beyond sense. 

He turned back around into the room to find Hannibal, hunched over with both hands flat against the countertop. Like a sixth sense, he looked up, staring hard at Will as if a dark glare would make him leave. He straightened up, turning toward him, his face expressionless.

“I told you to go.”

“I don’t want to go,” Will said, standing his ground.

“I don’t care what you want,” Hannibal replied, his voice like cold steel.

“I don’t care what _you_ want.”

Hannibal cocked his head to the side before the ghost of a smile flickered across his face.

Will frowned. “What?”

Hannibal approached him like a lion stalking its prey. “I was just thinking of how delicious you’d look on my bed in nothing but a rope to bind your hands. Like a bow atop a gift,” Hannibal said with a wicked smile as Will drew a ragged breath.


End file.
